All Too Well - Bill Weasley x Reader

A/N: This one is soangsty though. Like holy sh*t. Enjoy!

Song: All Too Well (10 minute version)

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Reader

Warning: Implied *eh hem*, breakup, moving on, “die”

The air was cold as you approached the burrow, walking side by side with Bill. Your y/h scarf was hung loosely over your shoulders, the frayed ends brushing against the wrapped gift in your hands. A smile was spread on your nose, small snow flurries falling around you.

Before Bill could even knock, a short, stout ginger threw the door open, rushing out onto the lawn and throwing her arms around your boyfriend. He laughed, stumbling back a few steps as he wrapped her arms around her.

“Oh, Bill, it’s so good to have you home!” She exclaimed, patting his cheeks gently. Slowly, she turned to you, a toothy smile on her face, “Oh, Bill, I didn’t know you were bringing a guest! Now who is this?”

Your smile fell in that moment, but it was quickly, and forcefully replaced. Extending a hand, you introduced yourself, “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. Bill’s girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend!” She exclaimed, jumping back in surprise, “Oh, Bill, you should’ve told us! She’s quite a looker, isn’t she?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, “You must be Bill’s mum?”

“Oh, forgive me, dear!” She took your hand, shaking it roughly, “I’m Molly Weasley. But you can call me Molly. Or mum. Most of the kid’s friends call me that.”

Bill shook his head, letting out a breathy laugh, “No, they don’t.”

“Well,” Molly sighed, “Let’s get you warmed up inside. No sense in standing out here in the cold when we’ve got a fire going inside. Come on, dear!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Slipping off your wool coat, you hung it on top of your h/c scarf on a nearby hook. You had handed Bill the wrapped present, which he held to one side as he gave his siblings one armed hugs, grinning from ear to ear.

In the next ten minutes, you were introduced to more people than you knew possible. Bill’s dad, Arthur, was more than entertaining. After finding out that you were a half-bloof, he was asking about your experiences having a muggle as a parent. You had been in Ron’s year in school, so you had already met him and Ginny. And although you had heard of Fred, you hadn’t been properly introduced. As for Percy, it was no wonder you had never spoken a word to him at Hogwarts. He didn’t speak much to anybody he deemed “unworthy of his time”. The Weasley’s appologized that the second oldest Weasley wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Charlie,” They had said, “Is preparing for the birth of a dragon this week, so he won’t be able to make it for Christmas. He should be here to ring in the New Year, though!”

The next thing you knew, you were being ushered over over to the living room. Taking a seat on the long and narrow couch, a large plush book was thrust into your hands. On the front cover, a photograph of the Weasley family was haphazardly pasted on, peeling off at the corners.

The corners of your mouth lifted up as you began flipping through the photo album. You spotted a picture of Arthur and Molly on their wedding day, two rubber duckies topping a lopsided cake. Molly heavily pregnant with her first child–Bill. Soon, your eyes were floating across the pages from Bill’s childhood. He was an only child for two years, then came along Charlie.

One picture caused you to pause. A smiling five year old Bill looked at the camera, his cheeks as red as his hair as snow fell around him. He sported a knit sweater embroidered with a “B” and a red and gold hat hiding his flaming red hair. Looking up at him, you smiled at the similarities, resting your head on his shoulder.

“So, Y/N, tell us about yourself,” Arthur said, “Old Billy hasn’t told us a single thing.”

Swallowing, you forced another smile on your face, “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living?” Molly asked.

George interupted before you could answer, “How’d you meet old Billy here? He’s old enough to be your grandfather!”

“Did you grow up with rubber ducks? How about cars? What was it like to be raised as a muggle?” Arthur questioned, resting his chin on his hand.

Ginny sighed, “What house were you in again?”

“Why are you with Bill? He’s a bit old, don’t you think?” Ron said inbetween bites of chicken.

Percy wrinkled his nose, “What are your views on the Ministry’s newest order?”

Your eyes widened, all the questions hitting you at once. Squeezing Bill’s hand for comfort, you waited for the questions to die out. He smiled down at you, nodding gently.

“Well, Molly, to answer your question, I’m a Keeper for the Kenmare Kestrels. I got the offer as soon as I left Hogwarts. It’ll be my second year playing on the team this June.” You let out the breath you had been holding since the questions had begun, “And, Ginny, I was in y/h. Percy, I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been keeping up with the Ministry’s policies as well as I should have. I live a pretty busy life, but I’m working on it.”

Continuing, you looked to Arthur, “I grew up around magic. My mother made sure I was introduced to it as a young age. I grew up surrounded by wizards with all of my extended family on my mum’s side. My father’s side knows very little about magic, but he knows the basics and comes to all my Quidditch games with my mum.”

Now, onto the questions you had been avoiding. How the age difference between you and Bill affected your relationship. How you met. The usual questions you were pelted with.

“Bill and I are only nine years apart,” You blurted out, your whole body tense, “It’s not too big of a gap, if you think about it. I’ll be twenty in the new year and he’ll be twenty nine. We both know plenty of people with even larger age differences that have made it work. It’s almost… normal for us. We don’t think about it too much.”

Molly nodded, “Completely get it. You two seem comfortable together.”

“We are,” You said, “We met at one of my Quidditch games, actually. Bill’s friends with one of the Chasers on my team, so he brought him back and introduced him to everyone. We hit it right off the broom.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Molly exclaimed, “Isn’t it, Arthur?”

“So, did you guys use rubber ducks often? What’s the function?”

With a glance towards Bill, he silently excused the two of you from the table, “We’ll go ahead and start cleaning up. Take the night off, mum.”

“Are you sure, Bill? I can just wave my wand and-”

He nodded, “We’ve got it. Promise.”

Bill led you into the kitchen by the hand, pressing a kiss to your temple as you breathed, your head spinning.

“Sorry about them,” He sighed, “They can be a bit intense when I bring a girl home.”

You were silent for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Why didn’t you tell them about us?”

“I guess it just slipped my mind.”

Brushing the hair out of your face, you looked up at him, “They didn’t even know I was coming, Bill.”

“It was a surprise.”

You shook your head, dropping your gaze. But he simply took your hands in his, waving his wand to turn on a nearby stereo. You recognized it from your dad’s office. He had one set up in the corner, playing old records. The music began and Bill began swaying slowly.

After a few minutes, he was twirling you around the cramped kitchen, causing you to nearly burst out laughing when he nearly knocked over a bag of flower.

“We really should start cleaning up…” You trailed off, your lips mere inches from his.

“It can wait.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You layed beside Bill on his bed, one of his flannels wrappd around your shoulders. You had packed plenty of clothes for the week, but had insisted on wearing one of his shirts to bed, inhaling the smell of cinnamon.

He rolled onto his side, “Lucky Ginny has a bit of a cold or else mum would have had you sleep in her room.”

“I’m just surprised she didn’t put me in Charlie’s room.”

“His room is a bit embarassing. Dragons everywhere. She wouldn’t want to subject you to that.”

You stifled a laugh, “Oh, I’m sure.”

Bill propped himself up on his elbows, “What do you say we go for a ride?”

“What kind of ride?”

“In the family car.”

You raised a brow, “You know how to drive?”

“We all do. Except for Percy. He refused to learn,” Bill said, raking a hand through his hair, “What do you say?”

“I say yes. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You come the Quidditch playoffs in February.”

Bill nodded, “I’ll work my schedule around it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tears streamed down your face, small cries escaping your lips as you sobbed into your pillow. Your heart wasn’t broken- it was shattered.

After joy riding in the Ford Anglia, which led to you and Bill steaming up the windows in the middle of an empty field, you had fully expected him to attend the Quidditch Playoffs. You were being recognized as a star Keeper. It was an honor. And he hadn’t shown. He should have been there. But he wasn’t. And it broke you.

He had sent you an owl, writing “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, emergency at Gringotts.”

But it kept happening.

Bill hadn’t shown up to a single match you had played the whole season. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You confronted him, asking if he even cared about you or your career. He went silent, explaining that his word didn’t revolve around you.

You left his flat that day, his words repeating in your head, “Maybe if we had been closer in age, it would have worked.”

But within a few months, he had a new girlfriend. A year younger than you. You had tried to ignore it, tried to move on. But you got an owl with a package clumsily tied to it’s talons.

Upon opening it, silent tears flipped down your cheeks. Inside was the golden watch you had given him, the clothes you kept at his flat, and the “promise ring” you had given him. Your father had given your mother one, and you liked the sentiment of it, so you had picked on out especially for him. And now it was in the palm of your head.

You digged deeper in the parcel, looking for the scarf you had accidentally left at his mum’s.

But in small letters, you realized you weren’t getting it back.

“Call the scarf a keepsake.”

You wouldn’t see the scarf again. The chances of you getting it back were about as high as it being wrapped around his new girlfriend’s neck. And that made you want to die.